


Better an Elf in the Cellar than a Wizard on your Nerves

by octopus_fool



Series: Yuletide Cheer [18]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: Even getting drunk with Thranduil is better than the ridiculous negotiations the White Council is making Thorin attend.





	Better an Elf in the Cellar than a Wizard on your Nerves

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 12 of [Arda Advent](http://ardaprompts.tumblr.com/post/180626386876/join-me-in-creating-wintery-fanworks-about), the prompt was "red noses".

Thorin could not stand another minute of this. Elrond’s attempts at making everyone get along, the elf witch’s sanctimonious smile, Saruman’s glare, Gandalf’s insistence that Thorin apologize for everything he had ever done - it was just too much to bear. Thorin did not know why he had ever agreed to going back to Mirkwood. He had known it would be awful and useless. But since Balin and Dáin had insisted, he had eventually agreed to the meeting.

Thorin needed to get out. It was a good thing all those people who thought they were oh-so-important could not quite agree on the best strategy to make Thorin and Thranduil become the best friends ever and were arguing about how to proceed. Nobody noticed when Thorin got up and left the hall in which negotiations were taking place.

The corridors outside were quiet, even though Gandalf’s raised voice could be heard even through the thick oak door. Thorin breathed a deep sigh of relief. This was already a lot better. He still needed a drink though. And he knew just where to get one, thanks to the unconventional exit Bilbo had found for them during the last stay in Mirkwood. 

 

The door to the wine cellar still creaked. The Elvenking really should make sure his servants took better care of his buildings. The rows of barrels stretched before Thorin in the gloom and he wondered where to start.

“Have you come here to escape or to plunder my wine supplies?”

Thorin only barely succeeded in suppressing a groan when he heard that only too familiar voice.

“Both, to be frank. These negotiations are the most useless ones I’ve ever attended, and I’ve sat through a lot of useless negotiations. I only intend to escape for the evening though, they’d know where to find me.”

Thranduil chuckled. “I’m glad we agree on the uselessness of the negotiations at least. Come and join me, maybe the wine can help us forget about their inane attempts to try to get us on good terms.” Thorin could tell from the lopsided crown that Thranduil had already gotten a bit of a head start.

“Thank you.” Thorin took the cup Thranduil offered him. 

They sat on the floor in silence for a while, drinking the strong Dorwinion wine with every intention of getting drunk. 

“That exercise in which I was supposed to catch you was the most ridiculous thing I was ever asked to do,” Thranduil finally said.

Thorin nodded. “They treat us if we were petulant children, not kings. It is humiliating.”

“It doesn’t even make sense, heightwise. How was that supposed to work? Was I supposed to crouch down and try to catch you then?”

“And how was I supposed to catch you? You would have fallen so far that either your reflexes would have kicked in or your feet would have slipped away when I did catch you. It’s a good thing we both refused.”

“Maybe they are simply trying to kill us,” Thranduil said darkly.

Thorin nodded. “Can I have some more wine?”

Thranduil poured them both more wine and they took deep gulps of it.

“It’s good,” Thorin said. “Goes straight to the head.” 

Thranduil nodded. “Yes, that’s the point of it. It’s not the type I would have chosen for taste, but it gets the job done.”

“I wonder what they’ll try next. Maybe they’ll make us wear a get-along-shirt. My sister sometimes did that with her sons if they argued. Two dwarflings in one overlarge shirt.”

Thranduil shuddered. “They can’t do that to us.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to try. They were discussing which strategies to use next when I left.”

“What ideas were they discussing?” Thranduil asked.

“Galadriel wanted us to hold hands and listen her drone on about going to a ‘happy place’, while Elrond wanted us to tell each other what we like and dislike about each other. Gandalf wanted us to burn the things we dislike afterwards, or to put us through some kind of dangerous or unpleasant trial together so that we’d have to learn to support each other.”

Thranduil shuddered and took another deep swig from his cup. “All of those sound awful.”

“I know. That’s why I hurried to get out of there. It’s a good thing they were too busy arguing to notice me leaving. When did you leave?”

“Around the point when Saruman demanded that everyone started confessing their deepest secrets and Celeborn started shouting.”

“Right. Good time to leave. Galadriel and Gandalf had to restrain them and then Celeborn got angry at Gandalf for whatever reason.”

“Maybe _we_ should make _them_ wear that get-along-shirt,” Thranduil said drily. 

Thorin giggled and immediately felt embarrassed about it. “We should. They seem to need it more than we do.”

“We just need some good wine,” Thranduil agreed. “And them to go away.”

“You’re the king here,” Thorin pointed out. “Can’t you just order them to leave?”

Thranduil sighed. “Diplomatic ties. Too much trade with them and too much hassle altogether if I did order them to leave. I have been thinking about it more and more though.”

Thorin nodded. “Being king sucks and dipo… diplomatics are worse.”

“It does. Welcome to the club. And you could just have had a nice quiet life in the Ered Luin.”

Thorin buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I could have. You were right, my quest was idiotic.”

Thranduil patted him on the back. “It could have been worse. Dealing with them is still better than dealing with a dragon. And please don’t start crying, I can’t stand weepy drunks.”

“I won’t. But I’m not so sure that Celeborn and Saruman are more pleasant to deal with than dragons.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to giggle and Thorin was slightly relieved that he wasn’t the only one to make such undignified sounds when drunk. 

“You may be right about that,” Thranduil said.

“Did you ever notice that his name sounds like celery?” Thorin asked, shaken by giggles again.

“It’s spoken with a ‘k’, not an ‘s’,” Thranduil pointed out. “But you’re still right, I may need to start calling him ‘celery’.”

Thorin doubled over with laughter. “Yes! You should!”

Thranduil started laughing too. “He’ll be so thrilled about it!”

It took a while for Thorin to stop laughing again. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stared at Thranduil, only to start laughing again.

“What is it?” Thranduil asked, slightly confused.

“Your… your nose! It’s completely red!”

Thranduil huffed. “Well, yours isn’t exactly pearly white either. In fact, your entire face is red.”

Thorin scrutinized Thranduil. “Is what they say true?”

“What do they say?”

“That the nose of your elk glows red in the dark.”

Thranduil wrinkled his nose. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever taken a close look at it in the dark.”

“Shall we look at it?” Thorin asked.

Thranduil’s eyes widened and he struggled to his feet. “How long have we been here?”

Thorin shrugged. “I don’t know, long enough to get drunk?”

Thranduil pulled Thorin to his feet and steadied him as he swayed. “Quick, we need to leave at once!”

“Why? What happened?” Thorin asked, looking around wildly. 

“They’ll have noticed we are gone and this is the first place they’ll come looking for me! They’ll drag us straight back to their awful negotiations.” 

“But we’re drunk! They can’t make us negotiate!” Thorin protested, although he suddenly felt a lot more sober at the thought of being found.

“They’ll just use that against us!” Thranduil frantically started packing some bottles into a bag he had found lying on a table. “Come on, we need to go!”

They both hurried out of the wine cellar and wove down the corridors that led towards the stables. Occasionally, they bumped into each other and burst into giggles, only to frantically hush each other. 

Finally, they reached the stables and Thranduil pulled the doors closed behind him, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“They shouldn’t find us here any time soon.”

“Good,” Thorin replied. “Then we can take a look at your elk’s nose in peace. Where is it?”

“Over here,” Thranduil said, grasping Thorin’s hand and pulling him along. 

The elk came over to them to greet them, even though it flared its nose at the smell of the wine.

Thorin stared at the nose. “It’s less bright than I had imagined it,” he said disappointedly.

Thranduil nodded. “I don’t think it glows.”

Thorin lit a lantern to take a closer look. “No wait! Look here! I think there is a least a little glow here.”

“That’s just the light of the lantern reflecting in the nose,” Thranduil said sceptically. 

“No, look!” 

Thorin pulled Thranduil closer to the elk and stumbled, the lantern still in his hand. Thranduil just barely stopped him from falling and sending the lantern crashing to the ground.

“Maybe we should put out the lantern, or at least hang it on the wall. We don’t want to start a fire,” Thranduil said.

Thorin nodded. “Hang it on the wall. That way we can still see if the nose glows.”

Thranduil found a nail on the wall and hung up the lantern before stumbling back over to where Thorin was admiring the elk. 

“He’s nice,” Thorin said. 

Thranduil nodded and looked at the elk as well. “He is.” He opened a bottle from his supply and took a couple of deep gulps. “Want some more?”

Thorin nodded and took the bottle from him. The elk decided that the other side of its stall was more agreeable and, more importantly, alcohol free. Thorin and Thranduil sat down against the wall, passing the bottle back and forth as they watched the elk eat hay.

“You know, if I send them all away tomorrow, you can stay,” Thranduil said after a while. “You’re not too bad for a dwarf.”

“And you’re not too bad for an elf.” Thorin looked at him. “Your eyes look pretty, you know.”

Thranduil looked back at him for a long moment. “So do yours.”

They were rather close to each other, Thorin noticed, and Thranduil’s eyes really were an amazing blue, even in the flickering light of the lantern, and his lips were stained red by the wine. Why not, Thorin thought. He was already going to regret everything about this evening tomorrow, so why not snog an elf?

 

“I found them,” Celeborn called. “No wait, don’t...”

Their clothes were askew and they were slung around each other, their lips swollen and their faces flushed.

“Hey, Celery,” Thorin slurred. “Want to join us?” 

Thranduil collapsed against his shoulder, laughing. 

“Oh,” Galadriel said, not having listened to Celeborn’s warning. “I did not see this coming.”

“Well, looks like the evening was good for something,” Gandalf said. “At least they aren’t going for each other’s necks.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Galadriel pointed out, having spotted several impressive hickeys on both of their necks.

Legolas made a distinctively nauseated sound.

“True,” Gandalf admitted, “even though I still think symbolically burning their grievances with each other would have been more effective.”

“It wouldn’t have,” Galadriel protested. “Thinking positive thoughts would have been much better.”

Thranduil moaned loudly as Thorin added another hickey to the collection.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” Legolas groaned and reached for one of the remaining bottles of wine.


End file.
